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Dijon-Brognan, yesterday
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An early start was called for in order to catch the 0735
ferry to Calais. The weather was very like an English summer - cold, poor visibility and
buckets of rain accompanied us to Dover, and stuck with us until we reached
central France. At Dijon the skies opened up and reminded us what we had
been missing in the UK.
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This morning, after checking in at the club office, I
attended to a matter of some importance. It had been brought to my attention
that the Union Flag that had been raised last year was in a poor state of
repair, which of course simply would not do. A replacement had been
couriered to me in England, and it was duly delivered to Claude in the
office with strict instructions to raise it as a matter of urgency. Honour
was quickly restored and satisfactory diplomatic relations have been
resumed.
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Phew!
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Then it was back to business as usual. Rig, check that
nothing had fallen off the glider after its 750-mile trundle from Cambridge,
have lunch and fly. In a poorly judged attempt to show off, I released under
a juicy cumulus en-route to the Gache, which of course didn't work. I spent
a tense few minutes below the top of the low part of Gache before
using a "tres delicate" thermal to climb away.
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Lac St Croix
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Parcours
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Cloudbase started at around 6000ft and slowly climbed
to around 9000ft over higher terrain. I first headed south to take a look at
the gorgeous colour of the lac St Croix, and then headed north for the
start of the parcours at the montagne de Coupe. There were several
step-changes in cloudbase as I approached the parcours, which occasionally
indicates wave (the wind was westerly/15 knots at this
time).
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Pic de Bure
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There was a lot of cloud north of Morgon and I decided to
give myself an easier first day by crossing the Gap valley to the pic de
Bure, half-expecting some wave there. None appeared, so I continued further
west into the Die valley, where I found that the thermals, in the
strengthening northwesterly wind, were getting more turbulent and harder to
use. I spent the rest of the afternoon pottering around Sisteron,
searching for and eventually finding some reliable wave in the Rosan valley.
Up to six knots in places, I topped out at FL110 and called it a day.
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Rosan valley wave
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As I arrived directly overhead the club to see which way the
wind-sock was pointing, I noticed that I was in a wide band of wave going up
at a steady 4 knots. I gave this some thought, tightened my straps another
notch and started my circuit. I hit the rotor on downwind and bounced my way
to a safe, if spectacularly exhilarating landing.
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